


I Know A Place

by myracingthoughts



Series: Marvel Fluff Bingo [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bisexual Darcy Lewis, Developing Relationship, F/F, Feelings Realization, Light Angst, Pole Dancing, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29131668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/pseuds/myracingthoughts
Summary: Darcy Lewis decides to take pole dancing classes to escape from the stresses of work and life in the city. She wasn’t looking to make friends or become a pro or anything, and shedefinitelywasn’t looking for a new crush, never mindlove.But you know what they say: things have a tendency to find you when you need them most.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanov
Series: Marvel Fluff Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154459
Comments: 20
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to do a mini series for Femslash February because I couldn't get the idea of pole instructor!Natasha out of my mind. This will be updated weekly until the end of the month.
> 
> Content warning: this chapter does have a (blink and you'll miss it) body insecurity mention, and future chapters will include smoking.

Darcy rapped her fingers on the desktop a few times before realizing that might come off as more ‘Karen’ than ‘crapping her pants’ as she waited for the smiling receptionist blonde-haired receptionist, Tandy, as it read on her name-tag, to finish a phone call. Darcy, however, was far too nervous to complain about a minor inconvenience.

It definitely wasn’t the receptionist she was worried about— Tandy was probably all of a hundred pounds soaking wet. No, Darcy Lewis was nervous just _being_ here, in this place, at this time, to a class she’d signed up for on a whim after a particularly bad night.

No big deal.

She tried to take a calming breath as Tandy placed the phone back on the charging base and turned to her, “Hi! Looking to check in?”

“Hi, I uh, signed up online?” Darcy replied, fumbling over her words. “Darcy Lewis? Sorry, this is my first time.”

“No problem,” she offered with a smile. “Welcome to the studio! I’m Tandy, and I’ll just have you read and sign the liability waiver and provide an emergency contact. Once you complete that and return it to me, you’re all good to go.”

There was a brief second when Darcy’s brain latched onto the phrase ‘emergency contact’ with a little too much panic. A second when she wondered what exactly she was getting herself into. But instead of hyperventilating like her hindbrain was telling her to, she slapped on a brave face, smiling as she assured the receptionist, “Great, thanks!” 

Darcy grabbed the offered clipboard and pen before settling down in a cushy armchair. 

The people walking in and out of the studio were a hodgepodge of the city, in everything from booty shorts to sweatpants, in various ages, sizes and shapes. It was hard not to be distracted by sheer variety in them, and _that_ made Darcy feel better than she would have admitted aloud. 

She might have spent way too long vetoing workout bras and outfits in front of her mirror this morning with too little sleep and not enough time.

In fact, Darcy had barely remembered to pack her water bottle and towel before she bolted out the door and down to the subway; having run so late, she almost missed her first meeting of the day. Which, come to think of it, was the reason she’d even decided to try this out tonight.

Well, part of the reason.

Tonight was supposed to be an escape from the monotony of a nine-to-five in the city—a break from her cardboard box in the sky that cost more than most peoples’ mortgages. And a few more reasons she kept just below the surface because, frankly, they were still a little too raw.

Shoving that particular train of thought to the back of her mind, Darcy finished skimming through the agreement and the liability waiver and quickly scrawled her signature in the bottom-right corner. She handed back the completed clipboard with another tight smile.

“Perfect,” Tandy hummed as she looked it over and pointed over to the right. “The locker rooms are just down the hall and to the right, and once your things are all put away, you can go ahead and find a pole in the main studio.”

“Great, thank you!” Darcy replied with a wave, breathing out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t failed yet; she hadn’t gone screaming out of the studio before she even finished the paperwork.

And honestly, with the week she’d had, Darcy was counting it as a win. 

She dropped her coat and tote bag into a locker, sliding in the combination lock she’d had since high school— stickers, Sharpie, carvings and all —and headed towards the back of the studio.

Half of the six poles were already taken by the time Darcy made her way into the studio, with several classmates already stretching and shucking off their leggings and sweatpants. Of course, that meant the only free poles were the ones near the front of the room— directly in front of the instructor —which wasn’t daunting at all considering today was the first time Darcy had even touched a pole in her whole, sheltered life.

It was OK. She could do this.

There were only about five minutes to go until the start of class —definitely not enough for a _full _mental breakdown— so Darcy took some deep breaths before setting down her water bottle and towel.__

__After a totally casual look around the room, she opted to leave her leggings on until after the warm-up._ _

__She had spent hours the night before pouring over videos and blog posts, articles and interviews about what to expect for her first lesson. The anxiety bubbling up in her stomach all day, minutes spent hovering over the ‘cancel reservation’ button online until it was too late to pull out without losing her money._ _

__The whole day had been a jittery struggle, just _thinking_ about what tonight was going to be like. Even now, her hands were so clammy she was afraid they’d slide right off the pole, and she’d end up in a heap on her ass. It would be fitting if nothing else. _ _

__That was just the kind of year she’d been having so far._ _

__But all of that doubt flew out the closest window at first glance at her teacher, all red-haired and long-limbed walking across the floor like she was a ballerina taking her mark. Darcy couldn’t quite place what tipped her off, but she just dripped poise. And Darcy? Darcy Lewis was entranced as she watched the woman strip off her jacket and throw it into the corner of the room._ _

__Suddenly, there was nothing she wanted more than to working towards having even a tenth of the grace, effortlessness, and ‘ _don’t give a fuck_ ’ attitude she exuded. _ _

__Because god _damn_._ _

__“Good evening,” she started, voice low with a hint of rasp as she fiddled with the sound system and the overhead lights. “I’m Natasha, and I’ll be teaching tonight’s class. Anyone here at the studio for the first time?”_ _

__Darcy tentatively raised her hand, feeling less awkward as two others also put their hands up. But those clear green eyes at the front of the room seemed to linger on her like she was a predator sizing up her next meal._ _

__And somehow, Darcy wasn’t totally against that imagery or idea._ _

__But maybe it was just the awe talking._ _

__“Welcome. Learning good habits from the start makes things a lot easier than trying to break old habits, so just remember that when I come around for any individual adjustments,” Natasha explained with a bright smile. “We’re all learning, so don’t be discouraged if you have trouble with a move at first. You’ll work up to it!”_ _

__After some stretching, a little light cardio, and a little less clothing, Natasha led them through some basic moves. The transitions were probably the most challenging part for Darcy, feeling more like a Clydesdale clomping around the pole and less like the elegant gymnast in her midst. But Natasha was encouraging, pointing out some pointed toes and shaking her nerves loose would help a lot._ _

__Darcy was pretty sure she used more muscles in that first class than she ever knew existed, her body screaming at her from years of disuse and a sedentary nine-to-five lifestyle. She had moments wondered (more than once) if she should even be here or why she had picked this activity from all the other lower-impact and more clothed options._ _

__But deep down, Darcy knew the answer._ _

__This was revenge. Not at her body or herself, or even _her_ , but for the way she’d been made to feel after years of being told she would always be cute and not pretty or sexy. All those times she’d been held onto as the curvy friend, or the rebound, or just being convenient. And even further back, all those giggles in high school locker rooms when she developed faster than everyone else and the subsequent shaming that came with having D cups at fifteen._ _

__This was her taking back her body, and if Darcy Lewis was anything in life, it was determined._ _

__By the end of class, she had even managed to lift herself up a few times, sometimes aided by the nimble hands of her instructor, completing a shaky fireman hold with a proud smile on her face._ _

__“Alright everyone, that’s it for today. Hydrate, rest and take it easy on yourself. You might be hurting tomorrow,” Natasha announced, flicking on the lights and turning off the music. “Thanks for coming out and get home safely.”_ _

__Darcy’s head shot around, taking a look to see the rest of the room already packing up._ _

__The timing caught her by surprise— it seemed so abrupt. Had that really been an hour already? While she was definitely winded, Darcy felt like she could have gone on for longer. Maybe it was the adrenaline talking._ _

__Or maybe she’d been too distracted…_ _

__She wasn’t sure if she was just slow in getting her things together or if everyone else just had better places to be, but by the time Darcy towelled off and slid her leggings back on, she realized it was just her and Natasha left in the room._ _

__How did she look just as put together as she had when she walked in?_ _

__That’s what Darcy was wondering as Natasha clearly caught her staring, putting on a soft smile as she asked, “So, how did you like your first class?”_ _

__Something about her voice just tickled something in the back of Darcy’s brain. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she knew it was a good something—a pleasant thrum at the base of her skull that made her smile a little less nervously._ _

__“It was great. Thanks for your patience. I know I’m not the most graceful,” Darcy chuckled, fighting the urge to smooth her hair down after catching a glance in a nearby mirror._ _

__She didn’t have years of dance experience— or any, actually— and any gym membership she’d held in her life had probably only been used a dozen times (max). Darcy Lewis was not an athlete, and she definitely wasn’t elegant, but she was determined if nothing else._ _

__As if she could hear Darcy’s internal dialogue, Natasha clicked her tongue, shaking her head in disappointment. “No one starts off graceful. You’ll get there. Just be patient with yourself. You’re already doing a lot of things many beginners typically have trouble with.”_ _

__“Thanks,” Darcy said, a little dumbstruck at the gentle response. “I’m Darcy, Darcy Lewis, by the way.”_ _

__Natasha looked like a hard ass, like some drill sergeant ballet teacher with the severe looks and the perfect hair and ridiculously toned body. But up close, from here, she could see a little twinkle in her bright green eyes as she assessed Darcy, with the hint of a smile on her full lips._ _

__Like she was keeping a secret._ _

__“Natasha Romanoff. It’s very nice to meet you, Darcy. I’ll see you back here soon, right?” Natasha asked as she turned to leave the room. “I’d hate to think I scared you off.”_ _

__Darcy tried not to think too hard about the flutter in her belly at the sound of her name on Natasha’s lips. She offered a real laugh now, eyes shooting down to the floor as she tried to keep the blush at bay. “I’ll be here on Thursday night. You teach that class too, right?”_ _

__Natasha’s smile stretched across her face, “I do, indeed. Guess I’ll see you then.”_ _

__And while Natasha had already left the studio, Darcy was still there, on the floor holding her towel and water bottle as she breathed to herself a little dumbly, “Guess so.”_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another (blink and you'll miss it) body image mention in this chapter.

Two months after that initial meeting at the studio, Darcy Lewis had become an all-out regular. Class twice a week became her new routine, and she found herself pushing further and further every session. She’d even started to develop her flexibility outside of class with stretches and modified yoga, _and_ worked up the courage to make conversation with her classmates.

For someone who’d never taken up a sport, this feeling— a sense of belonging, almost— was very new.

Darcy found herself daydreaming about her classes during work, spurred on by the twinge in her thighs, the familiar soreness in her abs and arms. She’d grab a stack of papers and instantly feel the reminders to herself. Every time Darcy passed by a mirror, she noticed it too. It wasn’t about size or shape or any measure quite that shallow, but it was more in the way she held herself. 

She _looked_ and felt more confident than she had in years, every to herself, and that was worth all the callouses, bruises, and pole burn in the world.

Honestly, Darcy felt like a whole different woman in the weeks that followed. Freer, almost. 

And for all the fear that Natasha was half the drill sergeant she appeared, it always seemed like she had a soft spot. For Darcy, specifically. Always there with the assists, guiding her hips and limbs in the right direction with gentle, perfectly-manicured hands. At first, Darcy chalked it up to being new and not wanting to scare her off, like she’d said out loud in their first meeting.

But part of her —the part that saw those approving glances and the way she managed to get those rare, genuine smiles with a sparkle in her eyes— hoped it was more.

Natasha made a habit of sticking around after classes, hanging out on the stoop outside the studio and chatting with her. They’d sit in the winter cold, bundled up in jackets and scarves. The smoke drifted up from between them, a mix of cigarettes and the last of their warm breath. Darcy learned a lot about Natasha from their chats but hadn’t quite worked up the courage to ask her for a change of venue. Something warmer, maybe more intimate.

Was that unprofessional? The whole student-teacher thing had Darcy feeling a little weird about the entire thing. Plus, there was a chance (a pretty good one, actually) that she didn’t even swing that way.

But then there were those times she felt like a mouse in a trap, dangling in view of a waiting cat who was just waiting to make their move. That flash of teeth framed by plush red lips, or a glance that seemed to sweep Darcy up and down. And those few times the words almost toppled out, she’d managed to hold them back, telling herself she wasn’t even sure if she was ready for all that yet.

The heartbreak and the anxiety that came with the chase.

So Natasha and Darcy remained at that weird almost-friends stage. More-than-acquaintances who occasionally shared cigarettes and practiced pole in (what seemed like) a little less clothing every week.

And if someone had asked her if she was OK with that, Darcy would have agreed... 

Reluctantly.

* * *

**DON’T PICK UP** : _miss u. wyd?_

Darcy had enough mind to look at the time before she unlocked her phone. 

2:13AM, which would make sense considering she _had_ been sleeping before the buzzing woke her, her phone nearly clattering off the edge of her nightstand and onto the floor. All because she’d somehow forgotten to take that number off her favourites list, bypassing her ‘do not disturb’ and sending her into a panic. 

Part of her wondered if it was some misplaced, pathetic hope they’d one day make up. 

But even in that half-asleep state, when her eyes darted between the contact name and the text, her phone felt like a weight in her hand. 

An anchor, maybe. Or a live grenade. 

No, that was definitely the lack of sleep talking. With a groan and a shuffling of covers, Darcy treated it like any nightmare, rolling over and trying to get back to sleep as she avoided the dreaded read receipt. But the text didn’t disappear by morning, her brain trying to puzzle out why she couldn’t just hit delete and be done with it. 

She was stronger now, more confident, so why did it feel like she was back to treading water?

And the stupid thing just seemed to haunt her all day, taunting her every time she checked the time or threw an email in the spam folder or even scrolled through Instagram. It wasn’t until she was halfway through her pole lesson that she realized it had followed her there too.

Her newfound safe space.

Darcy was suddenly ashamed she was half-assing it. Just last week, she was putting her everything into it, exploring holds and poses she never thought she could even attempt. And sure, maybe that was her trying to coax out the flush of pride on Natasha’s face as she helped her with form or looked on from across the room.

But not today— today, she was at the back of the class and avoiding all eye contact, doing the bare minimum as she basically just took up space in the studio with her distracted, fumbling self.

Long story short: She was a mess.

Who would have known that such a short text message could set off this much internal havoc?

Darcy had barely waited for Natasha to wrap the class before she gathered all her things and bolted out the door to get some air. She just needed to breathe. She just needed to sit down and read it again and mull it over some more. If she could just get her head straight—

“You OK out here, Darcy?”

Out of all the possible people to witness her like this, she was probably the worst-case scenario as far as Darcy was concerned. Great, now even her pole instructor would see what a basket case she was— as if it hadn’t been obvious enough in class.

“Sorry. I’m just in my own head,” Darcy admitted as she let her head drop against her forearms, half-wishing she would just let it go.

Darcy brought her hands up to her face, trying to hide the tear tracks from the passersby. She snuck a glance at Natasha as she let a couple classmates pass her on the landing. She didn’t have her gym bag with her, hadn’t even changed by the look of the haphazard look of her scraggly sweatpants, unusual for the typically put-together redhead.

Once the coast was clear and the lobby empty, Natasha sat beside her on the cold concrete, hugging her jacket closer.

“Tell me, Darcy, why did you want to take up pole in the first place?”

There was something about Natasha’s voice that was soothing. Darcy wished she could have just talked forever, saving her the trouble of digging up her own garbage and providing her with some much-needed relief. But she also wasn’t one for lying, for skirting the truth… not when it mattered.

Huffing a humourless chuckle into the night air, Darcy admitted, “Honestly? I just wanted to feel like myself again.” 

Maybe even a little _sexy_. The unsaid words lingered on her tongue, and she wondered if Natasha could pick it up, shuffling her feet slightly as she rested her elbows just above her knees. She was surprisingly perceptive, and there were nights like these when they talked about less serious things when Darcy swore Natasha could see right through her, down to her skeletons and implications.

“Bad breakup, huh?” Natasha asked, leaning her chin into her palm as she leaned towards Darcy, their knees barely brushing.

Darcy snorted, “Understatement of the year, but it’s been a while now. I’m just— I _was_ starting to get there, you know?”

Natasha nodded, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and tilting them in Darcy’s direction. It was a tempting offer, if she was honest, but Darcy thought better of it and shook her head in thanks. It was two clicks and a flame before Natasha spoke again, breathing out a steady stream of smoke into the evening air.

“Sometimes it takes those shitty situations for us to find ourselves again, you know?”

“Yeah, well. There are still some days I wish I hadn’t met her at all,” Darcy mumbled, catching herself from her usual ‘they’ or ‘partner’ title— the kind that would have masked a gender or an identity. She’d spent too long caring what other people thought, wondering if she had something to prove. But something inside her knew Natasha wouldn’t judge, vindicated at the raise of her brow but no harsh look or comment at the slip.

“Well, I’m sure you could have your pick of the litter, pretty as you are.”

Darcy’s face flamed at Natasha calling _her_ pretty, and she was pretty sure the pink tint could be seen from space at this point. She could probably die happy now, with a compliment like that from her.

With a huff of a laugh to cover her embarrassment, Darcy replied, “I wasn’t exactly beating off potential suitors or anything.”

“Mm,” Nat hummed, noncommittal as she leaned back on her elbows. “There’s time for that yet.”

Part of Darcy would have been happy to even be considered by the red-haired dancer in front of her, barely having broken a sweat in an hour-long class, hair looking like she was headed to a ballet recital with not a strand out of place. But she didn’t know which way Natasha swung or even if she was her type.

Darcy Lewis had been out of the game so long that even asking someone out on a date felt out of her league— never mind asking the glamorous Amazonian sitting next to her.

“Thanks for the lesson today, Natasha,” Darcy offered, turning to catch those bright green eyes. “And the pep talk.”

Natasha offered a smile, a real smile she thought, and replied, “Anytime, love. You'll get there. Don’t give up, OK?”

“I won’t.”

Darcy subtly wiped at her cheeks as she gathered her things, both of them getting up to go their separate ways. She was halfway down the steps when Natasha called out.

“Oh, and Darcy?”

She swung her head around, finding Natasha propping open the door of the studio with her back, “Yeah?”

“My friends call me Nat.”

Darcy couldn’t help the smile that stretched from either cheek, mirroring the one she couldn’t help but stare at, a little awestruck at the simple gesture.

“Goodnight, Nat.”

And so she left it at that, the last line coming out in a shaky breath as she smiled and bundled herself back up. It wasn’t long before she was making her way down the street and around the corner to the subway, catching a train back to Brooklyn.

By the time she set her keys on her kitchen counter and locked the door behind her, Darcy was still thinking back to the chat on the studio’s stoop. The way Natasha’s lips wrapped around a cigarette. The graceful way she flicked the ash off the end onto the sidewalk. The glint in her eye when she told her there was time yet. 

And she didn’t know what was worse: the way her heart hadn’t stopped its fluttering since the start of class, or the lurching in her gut that made her feel like she was right back in high school.

Darcy Lewis had a crush.

And she knew, in her heart of hearts, that she was royally fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter checks off my 'Clothes sharing' Marvel Fluff Bingo box.

Darcy was up to three classes a week, feeling less sore and winded after every one. She’d even started taking the occasional one-on-one class with Natasha when work really got her down, needing that room, that pole and those eyes to get her out of her head and stop her from spiralling.

It helped that Nat was always gentle, offering the occasional assist when she struggled to get out of a hold or work herself up the pole for a little more height. And sure, maybe Darcy had to tamp down the butterflies that flapped around in her belly whenever their skin met, but it was a small price to pay for that little rush of serotonin. And Natasha totally knew what she was doing, that sly smile on her face each time she reached over to adjust her form.

But Darcy would never call her on it. Not in the studio. Not as her _student_.

It was after her last one-on-one, Darcy looking a raggedy, tomato-faced mess and was towelling off when Nat approached her with an offer.

“Hey, by the way, I’m competing this weekend at a little show in the city,” Natasha started pulling a paper ticket out of her purse, “and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

It wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary— they’d been to studio events, pub nights and mixers before in all the months she’d been a member. And plus, she'd had probably invited a bunch of people from the studio, Darcy assured herself. There was no one she’d be the only one asked.

“Saturday?” Darcy asked hopefully.

Frankly, she didn’t really need the excuse. Her entire weekend was in the clear, but Darcy was trying to keep it cool. Casual. _Friendly_. If she had let her heart run away from her, it would have been a too-quick resounding yes in response. Which, if she wasn’t careful, might tip Nat off to how thirsty she was to get to know her outside of their time at the studio.

Because as much as Darcy was learning to love pole, she also loved their little heart-to-hearts on the stoop outside. Their occasional smoke breaks. Those moments when Natasha let something personal slip into conversation and Darcy tucked it away for a rainy day, hoping she’d be able to bring it up again later to prove she was listening.

She _was_ listening, even over the sound of her heart thumping in her chest every time Natasha got too close.

Or not close enough.

“And Sunday, if I make it into the final round,” Natasha explained, biting her lip. “But no pressure.”

That was the first time Darcy had ever seen Natasha as anything less than confident, with the quiet voice and the almost pleading look in her eyes. It was endearing, this more vulnerable side of her, and it almost made her wonder—

“I would love to come,” Darcy said with the widest smile she could muster. “Is your routine anything I’ve seen before?”

Sometimes Natasha would test her moves during their private sessions, show her advanced versions of the routines she’d prepare for Darcy. It was always breath-taking, the way her body seemed to flow around the pole, the effortless-looking ways she’d hold herself up— especially since she now knew the kind of strength it took to make it look that easy.

“Mm, some of it,” Nat said, that ghost of a smirk stretching across her red lips. “Who knows, maybe this time next year, it’ll be you competing.”

Darcy snorted, knowing hell would sooner freeze over, “Sure, Nat.”

They walked together to the door, each going their separate ways once they were at street-level, but they were always close. Natasha was always just far enough away from her, with a brush of her shoulder or her hand at the small of Darcy’s back.

Little things Darcy kept picking up on to convince herself that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t crazy, and Natasha _was_ putting out signs.

And maybe this whole thing wasn’t a pathetic high school-esque one-sided crush.

By the time she got to her Manhattan apartment and stared at her closet — leaving that battle for another day— Darcy was already thinking of the weekend to come.

And hoping for the best.

* * *

**Darcy:** _Here. I think?_

Darcy looked up from her cell phone long enough to see the long lines of booths and vendors. Everything from outfits to the poles themselves, balms, accessories and all styles (and heights) of shoes. It was a technicolour mishmash of mesh, rhinestones and dollar bills. And with the swarm of people weaving in and out of displays, dressed like they would have been on the street, for the most part, it was hard not to be entranced, frankly.

**Nat:** _Come on back to the green room. I left your name at the door_

Her eyes swept the convention center to find some sort of signage, honing in on a sign for performers and presenters in the back-right corner and headed there. After a quick check-in with the resident security guards and a little more direction from Nat, Darcy found herself in a tiny dressing room, Nat staring at herself in the mirror.

Darcy was frozen in the doorway as she took a good look at her, all milky skin and red and black spandex. Everything from the colour scheme to the little hourglass-shaped cut-outs in her top was a callback to her stage name, _The Black Widow_.

Darcy was entranced.

“You going to stand there all day, or?” Nat shot with a knowing grin, cocking her hip as Darcy laughed.

“Well, you look _gorgeous _,” Darcy gushed, no ounce of a lie on her lips as she swept the tiny redhead into a hug. “You nervous?”__

__“No,” Natasha replied a little too quickly, still sounding unsure, maybe even a little breathless. “Not _really_. But I could really use a pre-show smoke if you don’t mind?”_ _

__“Not at all,” Darcy replied before tilting her head to the coat rack. “Want me to grab your jacket?”_ _

__But Nat shook her head, “Nah, it’ll just be a minute.”_ _

__“Not even sweatpants?” Darcy offered, staring at Nat’s bare legs skeptically._ _

__She shrugged, “I don’t want lines.”_ _

__Darcy raised a brow at her, wanting to remind her it was in the low forties, but she was here for moral support and not so much to be her mother. Natasha grabbed her purse off the armchair in the corner of the dressing room and locked up behind them as they made it to a back alley exit for just this purpose._ _

__It looked like a private parking lot, with no guards or people in sight. Just the sounds of the city buzzing around them and the whistle of the cold air. Natasha fiddled with her lighter, taking a few clicks to finally get her cigarette lit with a harsh drag._ _

__Darcy took the opportunity to ask the question she’d been wondering about all week._ _

__“Anyone else from the studio coming out to see you?” Darcy asked, shoving her hands in her pockets as she found a comfy spot to lean against the brick wall._ _

__Another shake of her head as she exhaled, “No. Just you.”_ _

__Interesting. Even if Nat didn’t elaborate — she so rarely did, after all — something about that made Darcy’s heart beat a little faster, her smile a little wider as she looked back at her._ _

__But she could see the chill running through her, with Nat’s arms crossed at her chest between drags, bouncing slightly as she shivered. Their puffs of breath were starting to rival the cigarette smoke, the cold February chill setting into even Darcy’s bones._ _

__“You cold over there?” Darcy tried not to sound too smug as she watched the woman, clad in only booty shorts and a bra top, struggle to take her last few puffs of smoke._ _

__“Freezing my tits off,” Natasha chattered, shuffling from foot to foot in an effort to get warm. She stared at the cigarette in her hands like she was weighing her options. “Maybe I can do without the lucky smoke tonight.”_ _

__Darcy wasn’t about to let her freeze _and_ have her ritual messed with, opening up her arms._ _

__“C’mere. You can share my jacket if you don’t blow it in my face,” Darcy offered, holding back a cringe at how quickly it toppled out of her mouth. “If you want.”_ _

__Darcy was ready to have her awkwardly laughed off or even politely told ‘no thanks’— maybe that was taking things too far or too quick or in the wrong direction._ _

__But Natasha barely hesitated as she pulled the zipper to Darcy’s jacket down, inching forward as Darcy cocooned them in with her arms. A trail of smoke twisted and ached between them, but Darcy could still manage to smell Natasha’s perfume wafting above the ash._ _

__She could feel Natasha’s shivers slow as they huddled in the jacket together. As much as her head was telling her to look away, to not be nose-to-nose and make this incredibly awkward, her heart had a very different idea. She expected to look down and see the top of her head, but Natasha’s eyes quickly locked onto Darcy’s instead._ _

__“Thanks for saving the day,” Natasha said with a breathy laugh that tickled her brain. That low, rumbly tone she could listen to for hours. “Probably best not to catch frostbite before I even get on a pole.”_ _

__“Still nervous?” Darcy asked, knowing it could have been taken more than one way._ _

__But Natasha only smiled and offered a confident, “Never.”_ _

__It hung in the air like a challenge, those green eyes never leaving Darcy’s as they stood there, letting the ash crumble onto the pavement below. Caught in the moment._ _

__“I was serious earlier, you know. You’re gorgeous,” Darcy breathed, reaching over to the tails of her scarf, which she’d wrapped around Natasha’s neck, letting her hands linger tangled in the wool._ _

__Before she could let her rational brain talk her out of it, Darcy tightened her hold around the redhead, pulling her further into the coat. She was itching for that warmth, that closeness, that swell in her chest that she got with every look and piece of praise Natasha offered her._ _

__Inching closer, Darcy testing the waters as her eyes darted from those shining greens to her lips. It was Nat who finally closed the gap, thumb tracing Darcy’s cheekbone as she pulled her closer. Darcy melted into the kiss, that familiar warm thrum pulsing through her veins as they snuck little gasps of breath. By the time they pulled away, all Nat had to offer was a small smile, that little flash of teeth as she looked up at Darcy through her eyelashes._ _

__“Dinner, tomorrow?” Nat breathed, her cheeks red from the cold air, lips slightly smudged from the kiss._ _

__Darcy’s heart was still beating in her ears as she nodded dumbly, not even feeling the smile mirrored on her face as she added, “After you win.”_ _

__Nat chuckled, deep and throaty, as she confirmed, “After I win.”_ _

__“My treat.”_ _

__Something about that smile she'd had left her with stayed in Darcy’s mind the whole performance, watching her play to the audience, those little hints of eye contact when Nat found Darcy in the crowd._ _

__After a while of mulling it over, Darcy Lewis was pretty sure she had fallen into a game of cat and mouse. And somewhere around the time she eyed herself in a bathroom mirror, remnants of Nat’s red lipstick lingering on her lips, Darcy realized one slightly scary thing:_ _

__For once, she didn’t mind being the prey._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left! Thank you so much for all the feedback and support so far 💜


	4. Chapter 4

“Where did I put that fucking bag with the _goddamn_ —”

Darcy was digging through her make-up bag, everything from q-tips to chapstick flying in her wake. She reached the bottom, still not having found the one thing she was looking for, turning back to shoot Natasha a panicked look, but finding her instead standing there with something in her grasp.

“Lipstick?” Natasha finished, offering a black and silver bullet tube she’d pulled from her purse.

Darcy snatched it out of her hands with a victorious smile as she cradled it in her palms, “Yes! Russian Red, my trusty friend.”

Nat chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to her hair, but didn’t say anything else. She’d been surprisingly quiet all morning, gently making sure Darcy had enough to eat and casually slipping things into her bag, thinking she hadn’t noticed— covering for Darcy’s fried nerves.

Well, Nat had a way of making sure Darcy always had exactly what she needed. 

And even if Darcy felt a little scrutinized as Nat observed her painting her lips, she appreciated the soft fingers rubbing circles onto her hip as she leaned in close.

“Make sure you save some to share later,” Natasha murmured with a devilish grin.

Sure, Darcy knew it was the perfect shade against her skin tone— red hot, vivid, and visible all the way from the back of the crowd— but she also knew that Natasha meant it more as a mark and not so much make-up. If Nat had it her way, Darcy would have lip prints on her collar every morning. And she often did. 

It was a possessive little habit that she not-so-secretly loved.

But Darcy didn’t have time for fantasies— not now. Not when the butterflies in her stomach were turned up to eleven, and she was jittering so hard she could barely draw her eyeliner on in a straight line. God, she did this every single morning, this exact face, sometimes on less than four hours of sleep. She probably could have even done it in the dark without a mirror, but her hands just would not cooperate today.

Darcy cursed, groaning at the mess she was making with her make-up.

“Here, let me help,” Natasha offered, plopping down to the floor in front of her, knees touching as Darcy tried to steady her breathing. Nat pried the felt-tip pen out of her grip and instructed, “Look down.”

Darcy did as told for once, letting out a shaking breath as she picked at the green room’s carpet. Anything to chip away at the restless anxiety brewing in her. 

Nat hummed, swiping black across her lids, “Just breathe, love. You’re going to do just fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Darcy huffed, a little petulant as she flicked carpet fibres across the room. “And, easy for you to say. You _won_ last year.”

Setting the cap back onto the eyeliner pen, Nat smiled, poised and patient.

“Exactly, so I know what a winner looks like.”

But Darcy didn’t buy it, eyes dropping back down to the floor as her heart thumped against her ribs. 

Hands balled into fists beside her, Darcy let out a breath as she shook her head. She shouldn’t have entered this stupid competition. She could remember telling Nat she was absolutely crazy for suggesting it, the wide-eyed deer-in-the-headlights look as she waited for the punchline to land. But it never came, just that proud look that made her melt into the floor and sign up for a stupid showcase. 

But even if they had been practicing for the last six months non-stop, every cell in her being was asking her why the hell she was here and who she thought she was—

“Look at me,” Natasha instructed, squaring her jaw as her fingers slipped under Darcy’s chin, tilting her head. 

Darcy’s eyes reluctantly flicked up to meet Nat’s brights green, alight with something she hadn’t seen before. 

“ _You_ are going to kick ass. Not because you’re my beautiful girlfriend, but because you’re an amazing fucking dancer, and I know that you can. You’re going to give ‘em hell, Darce.”

Tears prickled Darcy’s eyes before she could stop them, the only word she could manage wobbling out, “Promise?”

Natasha smiled with a breathy chuckle, framing Darcy’s face with her hands and brushing away a track on her cheek. She didn’t chide her for potentially ruining her make-up or tell her she was stupid for being scared. 

Nat was the strong, resilient waves washing the speckled, rocky shores smooth of self-doubt. She was the constant in Darcy’s life— that guiding force that challenged her, encouraged her, and filled her so full of warmth it was hard to pull herself away.

“I promise.”

Home. The words felt like home, Darcy realized.

Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, Darcy’s shoulders slumped, the tension releasing as her hands quickly found the hemline of Nat’s shirt. Her fingers danced across the bare skin of her back, breathing deeply as she set her head into the crook of Natasha’s shoulder.

“Better?” Nat rumbled, tracing circles onto her shoulder blades.

Darcy sighed, “Yeah. Sorry. Nerves.”

“Nothing to apologize for.”

With the jitters out of the way and a mischievous grin, Nat’s hands slipped down towards the waistband of Darcy’s hot shorts, ghosting over the goosebumps on her thighs as she looked up at Darcy through her eyelashes. _Dangerous_. They were heading into dangerous territory, with only a few minutes before showtime and a full face of make-up already in place.

“I don’t want to ruin your lipstick,” she breathed as if she was reading Darcy’s mind. “But there are other things we can do— _I_ can do if you need to steady your nerves?”

As usual, Natasha was asking for trouble, sitting in a dingy green room in the back of a convention center, 1970s carpet and all. But even with the current circumstances, Darcy still found it hard to deny her and her roaming hands, found it hard to say no to that smile and those eyes.

Though, they both knew it was a little more selfish of a request than she was framing it. Natasha Romanoff was a lot of things, and a giver was definitely one of them. 

Either way, Darcy shook her head with a laugh, “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think we’ll have time for me to return the favour—”

Nat’s eyebrows flew up, the start of a ‘what if’ on her lips as she started, “But—”

“— And I _want_ to return the favour,” Darcy finished with a smirk, tracing Nat’s cheekbone with her thumb and pecking her on the lips to punctuate the point. “I insist, actually.”

Natasha failed to school the smug grin on her face as she shot back, “Insist, huh?”

“Mm,” Darcy hummed. “In great, great detail.”

“Well, in that case,” Natasha started, pulling herself up to stand and offering Darcy a hand. “Who am I to stop you?”

Nat tugged a little too hard, pulling their hips together and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. Darcy was lost in the scent of Natasha’s perfume for a beat, the bergamot and musk surrounding her in what she could only describe as _her_.

“Thanks for being here, for getting me here,” Darcy mumbled against Nat’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, love. You got here all on your own, Darce.”

Darcy Lewis of a year ago wouldn’t have even dreamed she’d be on this stage— skimpy shorts and all. Even Darcy of six months ago would have thought Nat being here, cheering her on from the sidelines and giving her good luck kisses was nothing more than a daydream.

Bu today, this Darcy Lewis, had grown a hell of a lot. Not just in her pole work, but in just being a human being. She’d wake up to lipstick on her neck and messy red bedhead on the pillow beside her. And looking over and seeing the proud smile on her face, Darcy Lewis knew she’d already won.

But she was going to put on a damn good show anyway.

“We should get you to side-stage,” Natasha announced. 

Checking the time on her phone, Nat was already flitting across the room and gathering up Darcy’s bags. Nat led her by the hand down a narrow hallway.

“Break a leg, _liubimaya_.”

Darcy grinned, heat spreading to her cheeks. And while on paper it meant ‘my beloved’ or ‘my love,’ she’d taken enough Russian in college to know what it meant, in context. 

Neither of them had said the words yet, those three little words that held a lot more power than they should. Darcy all but preened every time Nat introduced her to friends as ‘ _my Darcy_ ,’ knowing it might be the closest they got for a while. And that was fine; Darcy understood that once those words were out there, it was hard to take it back. They tended to change everything. 

But being here, feeling this, knowing that she could have said them weeks ago, Darcy figured it was a good a time as any.

“I love you too, Nat.”

Her good luck kiss before she crossed the stage nearly made her knees buckle, but somehow, Darcy Lewis made it to the pole and smiled, wrapping her fingers around the familiar metal. She shot one last look to her girlfriend, flush and smile at the side of the stage.

Darcy could hear the announcer starting her intro as the lights dimmed.

Showtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the end of this little series. Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, bookmarked and clicked the kudos button along the way!
> 
> I posted [a smutty taserwidow one-shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29606688) this weekend, if you’re interested. And I also take [prompts](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/post/635410523601649664) on my tumblr, if you’re looking for something specific.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. All comments, kudos and bookmarks are loved and cherished.
> 
> See you next week!


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